


Gardening

by greekowl87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gardening, Pre IWTB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 17:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Just a little bit of fluff written for @leiascully's tumblr challenge of 'cultivation'. Pre IWTB.





	Gardening

The idea was to cultivate a life for them. To make something more permanent. She was tired of running after four years. She was tired of the different names, endless motel and hotel rooms, changing her hair (she missed her red hair), she detested the handful of times her hair dying attempts backfired, she missed what she used to do and who she used to be. He would not openly admit it, but he was tired of it too. He noticed her unhappiness and that only made his depression and his own unhappiness even worse. And then the fighting. Oh, God, the fighting. The fighting was only getting worse too.

They never used to fight like that. They would banter when they had the X-Files together. But ultimately, it would lead to an ending they arrived at, together. But now, they could not even work together much less stay in the same room without an argument erupting. They still had sex, but it had become primal and devoid of feeling and emotion. They say angry sex was the best, but both of them found it impersonal and more like a burden than anything else.

He wanted her back. He wanted them back. He wanted to cultivate and nurture the little they had left with each and try to bring whatever they were back.

It was supposed to be a surprise. He suggested an unremarkable farm house in the country of Virginia as a rental for a few months, where in reality, using cash to buy it and putting it in their name, covertly of course. The last thing he needed was the FBI to come howling in and throwing him in jail.

He remembered her look of surprise when he mentioned staying in a place for a few months and instead of a few weeks. He shrugged and suggested it would be a nice change of pace for them. She just gave a Mona Lisa smiled and said nothing.

She was smiling even more when she saw the house for the first time. He remembered standing in the doorway nervously as she inspected each room in her meticulous Scully-esque way. She came back, smiling. Tears in her eyes. Why was she crying, he wondered helplessly. What did he do wrong?

She smiled at him as if reading his thoughts. “Nothing,” she had said, “this is perfect, Mulder. This is perfect. Everything is perfect.”

He smiled. “Well,” he replied, shifting uneasily from foot to foot (he remembered how nervous he felt). He wanted to tell her outright but he wanted to keep surprising her, making her smile. “It’s ours.”

She had looked at him funny, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow in contemplation. “Ours?”

“Ours.”

“As in we are staying here for more than a few months?”

“As in we own this home. This is our home, Scully.”

He dangled the keys in front of him and gently sought her hand. He remembered the coolness of the palm of her hand as he pressed the house keys and enfolded her hand and the keys in both of his hands. “Ours,” he repeated.

“Ours,” she repeated smiling, tears in her eyes.

It was their home. Their life. Their future to cultivate. She found a job in the local hospital and underwent a new medical residency. Even though he could not go out in public as easily as himself, he felt freer than he had in a long time. They could walk their extensive property without fear of being caught. He did not have to hide in the open. He worked during the days she was gone, making small home improvements here and there. He painted the living room, added a fancy faucet to their bathroom tub, fixed the leak in the kitchen ceiling, unjammed the second-floor window that never closed all the way, and they found time to make the beginnings of a small garden.

She came home early from the hospital one day to find him shirtless in the humid spring sun out back, digging away on his hands and knees. To his left sat various seeds and various small garden flowers. She shook her head as he continued to work. He had become so engrossed his project, he failed to hear her drive up. She was able to change in old jeans and a gray t-shirt and step out back to find his latest home improvement project.

“Gardening,” she called out questioningly.

He looked up and sat back on his heels. He was smiling. “Your shirtless garden boy at your service, Ms. Scully.”

She laughed. A real laugh that he had not heard in ages. She caressed his bare shoulders fondly, lingering on the scar of the bullet wound on his left shoulder before kneeling down next to him. She nodded wordlessly to the seeds and flowers next to him.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” he shrugged, “why not put down some roots and cultivate a little something-something.”

She thought back to when they took the physical step in their relationship and briefly of William. But it was now. She was happy, as happy as she could be given the situation. She still had Mulder. She would always have Mulder. She smiled and wrapped her arm around his sticky shoulders and kissed his neck softly.

“What are we planting? Sunflowers?”

“Of course,” he laughed. “I’m going to be a sunflower seed farmer.” He focused at the fresh dirt and Earth. He pointed as Scully followed his finger. “There, we’re planting cucumbers, over there tomatoes. Maybe potatoes in the fall. Are potatoes in the fall?”

“I have no idea, Mulder.”

“Well, I can find out. And we can plant pumpkins and carve them on Halloween. Also, we can plant different vegetables seasonally. I love how you love strawberries and we can plant some for next spring. But I also have other flowers,” he replied pointing to the small flowers and bulbs. “Tulips, pansies, iris, and I know you love yellow roses.”

She could not find the words. He looked at her nervously, taken back by her silence. She hugged him more and felt a tear in her eye. Quietly, she kissed his cheek and nuzzled his temple. “It’s perfect. All of it is perfect.”

He smiled and sought her lips again. “Just remember that when I start making dinner for us when you get home at night.”

She chuckled softly and nudged him gently. “Got an extra pair of gardening gloves? Just don’t get angry if I don’t have a green thumb.” She slid on an old pair of gloves and looked fondly at Mulder. “I’m happy, Mulder. I really am.”

“I know,” he smiled, unspoken love being felt between them. “Let’s get started on those sunflowers, hm?”


End file.
